The Bathroom
by LivenotMerelysurvive
Summary: Kurt walks in on David. Vague references to eating disorders. One sided Kurtofsky. Rated for language.


I like to think that I've grown a lot in the last year. I like to hope that I'm not the same kid that ran away to Dalton and my knight in shining armor, no matter how wonderful he may be. I used to say things without seeing how they affected people. I used to not _care_ how they affected people. Apparently, part of growing up is consciousness. Gossiping has lost its appeal and rumors no longer seem funny, just hurtful.

None of that really prepares me for this.

When I walk into that bathroom on the second day of my senior year, I think that maybe I've accidently reverted and gone into the girl's bathroom.

The sound of retching is startling. If not for the obvious urinal, I would have walked back out to check the door.

"Do you need a nurse?" Thinking that with the state of the cafeteria food, poisoning is possible. In my heart, I know that's probably not what I've walked in on.

"No." Comes the broken response from the last stall.

"Please, just go away." Fucking hell. I'd know that voice anywhere. I think it will always hold a special place in my nightmares. Despite the man that David Karofsky is well on his way to becoming, the breathy whisper is shockingly similar to the one I've yet to make myself forget.

I should go. _This _is not something I can deal with. I turn to leave, but the most gut wrenching sob stops me. I know then that no matter what David has put me through in the past, I can't leave. I slowly walk towards the last stall. It's locked, but I can see large, sneakered feet just beneath the door.

Is this really intelligent? I'd be giving an already angry, confused boy one more reason to hate me. It would be one more secret forfeited. I don't think David would have ever hurt me, but should I really take that chance?

"I said fucking go."

That makes up my mind. He shouldn't be alone and, if I'm honest with myself, no one else would understand this the way I can. Even with my mind made up, it takes a moment to make myself speak.

"David." I whisper through the door. His breath hitches audibly.

"K-Kurt?" The way he says my name makes me step back from the door. I expected anger. I could have dealt with that, but David's voice is full of hope. It sounds like he only dared to dream that I was actually on the other side of the cubicle door.

I'm not really sure how to respond.

"Are you ok?" Stupid question. Even if I'm wrong and this is Tuna Surprise related, he's not okay.

"Yeah, j-just. Must have a bug or something." All of my doubt slips away. David is a very bad liar, at least to me.

"David, what the hell are you doing?"

A boy, obviously a freshman, sprints in before he can answer and doesn't even look at me before making quick use of the urinal.

This is surreal. Why would he do this to himself? He's the most popular guy in school, football player, fucking Prom King. Could being in the closet induce eating disorders? It could, depending on how the self hatred manifests itself I guess.

The freshman boy whisks out of the bathroom just as quickly as he came in and I realize we can't have this conversation here. I may miss 5th period English, but I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else at this point anyway.

I pull a few paper towels from the dispenser, stoop so that my arm slips under the slot in the door, and place them next to his knees.

"Clean up a bit. We'll talk in the choir room." I leave no room for debate.

"Why would you want to talk to me? Aren't you going to be late for class?" He's trying to play this off and distract me.

"David, I'm not stu-" I stop myself. This might require a bit more sensitivity than that.

"I want to help you. Please. I promise I won't tell anyone." I hear a resigned sigh and the shuffling of feet. The toilet flushes and, before I can really prepare myself, I'm face to face with my former bully. It's a good thing I didn't try because nothing could have prepared me for how wretched David looks.

"I don't wa- need your help. There's nothing to help me with. I'm just sick." My most unimpressed glare is all it takes for his last bit of resolve to crumble. He doesn't say anything, but we both know that he's going to stop lying.

"I've spent enough time in the girls' bathroom to be able to tell the difference. I really won't tell anyone as long as you promise to talk to me." David leans against the solid partition between stalls and crosses his arms defensively.

"More blackmail?" He's half joking. It's not a good kind of joking though. It's humorless.

"It seems to be the only way to get you to help yourself." I don't mean for it to come out quite so condescending and immediately regret saying it at all.

"Sorry. That wasn't-"

"No, you're right." He says quietly before pushing off the stall. I watch him walk through the door and out into the hall, all the while very worried.

Part of me doesn't really expect him to head to the choir room, but he does.

0.0.0

Surreal doesn't begin to describe how it feels to watch an insecure, scared David fidget in one of the choir room chairs. We've been sitting here for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence. I'm waiting, trying to give him as much time as he needs, but we only have forty-five minutes.

"Look, we don't have a lot of time, so I'm going to ask you questions and you answer whichever ones you want, okay?"

He looks up at me, startled.

"Okay." He whispers.

I sit for just moment longer, gathering my thoughts.

"Was that the first time?"

"No." He won't meet my gaze. He looks ashamed and embarrased.

"Why would you do that to yourself? Why would you even want to? There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

David's expression turns quickly incredulous.

"Come on, Kurt, you know that's not true. I'm fat _and_ closeted. I'm fucking miserable." He looks like he told me more than he had intended.

"I can't talk about this with you. I can't." The way he says 'I can't' is eerily familiar.

"Why not? Of everyone at this school, hell in this town, I think I'm the one that could understand this best. I _know_, David."

"Yeah, I remember, but you don't know _everything_. Even though you were there; even though the words came out of your fucking mouth, you still just don't get it."

Now he looks really angry at himself. He's right. There's obviously something I missed because none of this makes sense to me. I said something to David at some point that made him do this to himself? I can't believe that. I don't w_ant _to believe that.

"I-I don't know what I said to you that made you think this was necessary, but-"

"Really, Fancy? I-I knew Prep Boy was helping you get past my stupid mistake, but I didn't realize you'd completely forgotten about it. I guess I should be happy."

"I haven't forgotten and Blaine has nothing to do with the closure I've found. It's you. I don't feel like my first kiss was stolen anymore-"

"Your _first_ kiss? How am I such an enormous fuck up?" David puts his head in his hands.

"I know none of this was easy for you either. I'm not going to pretend that it didn't affect me, but that doesn't explain… this." I'm not sure how he would react to the actual word, so I keep things vague. David mumbles something into his hands that I don't quite hear.

"I couldn't hear you." He finally looks back up at me. He looks so resigned; no longer angry, just tired.

"I'm not your type. I'm a chubby, scared little boy that sweats too much. I-I've only ever met two out gay guys. Frankly, I couldn't give a shit what Prep Boy thinks of me, but you-"

I don't know what to say. I barely remember anything I said before the kiss. I was so angry and on the largest adrenaline rush of my life.

"Your opinion is the only one I've ever gotten that actually mattered. I hate that I let you become that to me when it's so freaking obvious that I'll never be that to you, but-"

"David, stop."

"No. Being popular, being on the football team, all the shit I put myself through to fit in, none of it can get that one damn sentence out of my head. No matter how hard I try, it doesn't make you matter any less." He's on the verge of tears, but still staring at me intently.

"I know how weak this makes me." He whispers, finally looking away.

"You're not weak. You just haven't realized yet how temporary high school is." I've said those words quite a few times in the past, mostly as a way to cope, but they really resonate with me this time.

"These people, they're hatred, is only for ten more months of your life. I'm not saying that there isn't plenty of hatred elsewhere, but you'll find a place where you belong. I know you will, you just have to be honest first, to yourself and to others."

"Exactly, I'm finally being honest with myself. I finally know what I have to do to be happy. I just can't do it _here_. So, I'm biding my time and trying to stay as close to the top as I can while I have to stay." I sit back in my chair and take a long look at David. He does look a bit thinner, especially in his cheeks.

"I'm confused. If you've got this all figured out why are you still hurting yourself?" I can tell immediately that he doesn't want to answer. We sit in a moment of surprisingly comfortable silence while I wait.

"I'm sorry, that I won't answer." He gets up and starts to walk to the door. I know that if I don't push him now, I might never get another opportunity like this. I can't let him continue to bottle this up.

I'm probably crossing a line between helpful and intruding, but I'm so damn curious.

"What's this dream then? What keeps you sane in Lima?" He turns around surprisingly fast. I kind of expected a bit more resistance. He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders, making no move to sit back down, but obviously not intending to leave anymore either.

"Getting the fuck out, mostly." He's looking down at the linoleum, not meeting my eyes.

"There's more. You could do that, easily, just the way you are." He looks uncomfortable again and looks back at the door.

"Well, yeah. I want to go to college and finally find a place I can be myself."

"Come on, David, stop evading. I think, after everything we've been through, I deserve this one straight answer from you." I've gone too far. He's going to leave and probably never talk to me again. I expect him to get angry, but I'm shocked when he walks quickly towards my chair. He stops short when he sees the fear in my eyes.

He turns around, runs his hands through his hair and down over his face.

"Fuck. Fine, you want to know what I can't do here." He turns back around I'm struck by how conflicted he looks.

"You want to know why I-I do what you walked in on. " I can't speak. I nod weakly, not sure if I want him to continue anymore. There's something about the way that he's looking at me right now. It's not the first time, but it's been a while and his green eyes have never been quite this intense before.

"One day," he stops. It looks like he gathers all his courage and sits back down in the seat next to mine, turning towards me.

"I'm going to be a man that you would be proud to be with." It takes a second for me to understand how he answered the question and my stomach drops.

"Right now, I'm a closeted, overweight coward. Right now, I'm _not_ good enough for you, but I will be. Even if you and Blaine never break up and even if you never really forgive me, at least I'll know I did everything I could."This can't be real. David Karofsky is not looking at me like it's taking every bit of his restraint not to kiss me again. He didn't just say he wants to be with me. This is a dream.

"I-I wanted to wait to tell you til after school. Maybe run into you during break and see if it was meant to be, but you could never love a coward, so-. I know I'm not handsome or ch-charming like Prep Boy, but I would do anything to make you happy. J-just keep that in mind, just in case we do see each other again after we escape this hell hole, okay?"

I'm still completely speechless. I feel like there are a hundred things I _should_ be saying, but I can't articulate a single one of them. Before I can, David is out of his chair and half way to the door. Part of me wants to stop him, but the other part needs time, a lot of time.

"David," I manage to squeek out. He stops and turns just before the door.

"D-don't do that to yourself for me anymore. If _you're_ not happy with how you look then change it intelligently, but never put yourself through something like that for someone else." It looks like he gets it. I hope he does.

He walks out the door while I'm left to contemplate what the fuck just happened.


End file.
